


Parched

by irisadler



Series: Sensorium [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Contemplation, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14253861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisadler/pseuds/irisadler
Summary: Magnus ponders the Shadowhunter who’s turned his life upside down. Set before 1x12.





	Parched

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the ficlet battle! My prompt was thirst (with the self-imposed restriction of Magnus POV).

It’s been nearly a century since Magnus allowed himself to feel anything for anyone. But even with eternity stretching before him, that’s a long dry spell, as his friends frequently remind him. Magnus appreciates their care but dismisses their concerns lightly. It’s only when he’s at home. Alone. Again. That he finds his own doubts surfacing.

Magnus hasn’t been celibate these many years, of course, taking many a beautiful creature to his bed, giving and taking pleasure when the opportunity presented itself, but… such things are different with feelings, markedly so. And it’s feelings he finds himself brimming with now, threatening to overflow and sweep him away. _Feelings._ For a _Shadowhunter_. He can hardly believe it. Magnus Bane. Enamoured of a Shadowhunter. The thought is appalling.

And yet, ever since the young man (because he _is_ young, as are all humans when compared to Magnus) saved his life, not once but twice, Magnus finds himself thinking of Alexander often.

His honest hazel eyes and the mass of dark hair that always seems to be begging Magnus’ fingers to touch.

The unrelieved black of his appearance in comparison with the way his gaze lingers on Magnus’ own apparel, fascinated and intrigued.

The way he consistently defies Magnus’ expectations of how a Shadowhunter should be, particularly one who’s also a Lightwood.

The smiles Magnus has coaxed from him, surprised and pleased and reluctant, all at the same time, the ones that Magnus would make a complete and utter fool of himself to see more of, though Ragnor would say he already has.

The stark contrast between his easy competence with the bow and the stammered attempts at a sentence after he introduced himself.

The complete and utter shock on his face when Magnus called him ‘pretty boy,’ as though he genuinely didn’t know he’s _beautiful_.

The selflessness he’d displayed when Magnus needed his strength, offering everything he had without concern for his own wellbeing.

The care for Magnus he’d shown in staying behind to clean the blood off the sofa to spare Magnus the effort.

His frankly adorable grimace at the taste of alcohol, the one that had made Magnus want to ply him with drinks all night just to see more of those unintentional expressions.

Magnus tries to drink down the thoughts with whiskey, chasing them down with more of the same. He doesn’t need Alexander. He’s Magnus Bane, dammit. He’s managed for centuries on his own. _Centuries_. He doesn’t need _anyone_. Right?

It’s simply not possible that this _Shadowhunter_ has somehow single handedly changed the landscape of Magnus’ life, turning a barren wasteland into a thriving ecosystem. And yet, there it is. The truth of it.

Magnus had forgotten how it felt to have this hum of life and emotion inside him, but now that Alexander’s reawakened it, he wonders how he lived so long without it. He doesn’t know if he can turn away from it, doesn’t know if he can go back to the way he’s been living. Doesn’t even know if that can be called living.

Because the fact of the matter is that Magnus’ life has been a desert of emotion for almost one hundred years. Now, here is Alexander, sudden and unexpected, shimmering in the corner of Magnus’ vision like the most beautiful mirage.

Alexander.

He’s shelter from the unrelenting sun, the coolness of shade on overheated skin.

He’s water, clear and cold and plentiful, spilling onto cracked lips and a sandpaper tongue.

And Magnus... Magnus is dying of thirst.


End file.
